


Your Heart Is All I Own

by orphan_account



Series: Dreaming Wide Awake [7]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Essentially Fluffy Porn, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Spontaneity is romantic, right? Right?Look, Nate never claimed to be a planner, but he's pretty sure he should have put more thought into it than this.





	Your Heart Is All I Own

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, and I make no profit for it. Title is from Ed Sheeran's "Perfect".
> 
> This is mostly me avoiding trying to figure out how to modify the Reckless universe after all the ridiculous trades and Cale's decision to room with Sam. Is that for the whole year? Is it just for a short time? Does anyone know? I would love any info you have because that's super helpful in fic writing.

Opening the fridge, Nate snags a couple of beers from the top shelf and the last of the guacamole before grabbing the chips and heading for the living room.

“I can’t believe you actually found a DVD for us to watch,” he says, setting the food down and taking a seat in the corner of the couch where he can stretch his legs out on the L-shaped curve of the sectional.

Cale turns to give him a funny look. “DVDs aren’t that old, and movies are still released on DVD all the time.”

“Sure,” Nate shrugs, “but who actually buys them?”

“I don’t know. Someone has to though, since they keep making them.” He fiddles with the buttons of the x-box, and the disk drive pops out with a click. Grinning triumphantly, he slides the DVD in and waits until the screen goes dark and then lights up with the first commercial before joining Nate on the couch.

He moves to sit beside him, but when Nate pats the space between his legs, he comes easily, settling against Nate’s chest as he skips the commercials. Grinning, Nate loops a heavy arm around his waist and noses at the short hairs on the back of his neck.

“Nate,” Cale says, warning even as a shiver runs through him. “We’re going to watch this.”

Nate hums and scatters a couple kisses on the warm skin beneath Cale’s ear before leaning back. “Of course,” he drawls, “you put all that effort into finding an actual DVD instead of just finding it on Netflix or something. We have to watch it.”

Cale’s mouth turns down at the corners. “Movies don’t stay on those sites forever,” he reasons, “so it’s better to have our own copy.”

“How often do you plan on watching this?”

Cale presses back into him and lays a hand on Nate’s thigh, fingers hot on the skin where his shorts have ridden up. “I don’t know, but if you keep talking, we’ll never be able to start it.”

Nate tightens his arm and toys with the hem of Cale’s shirt, fingers sliding beneath to touch warm skin. “Maybe that’s my plan,” he breathes out lowly, and Cale shudders.

His hand tenses on Nate’s leg, squeezing the muscle before relaxing. “Later,” he murmurs. “We’re not having sex in the middle of the day.”

Scoffing, Nate teases over the fine hairs that disappear into his shorts, fingers feather-light. “Why not? No one else is around to interrupt, and we don’t have anything planned tonight, so it’s not like we’ll have to make ourselves presentable afterwards.”

Cale sinks further into him and hums, noncommittal. “Maybe after. We’re watching this right now though.” He hits play and tosses the controller onto the cushion beside them. Nate hooks his chin over his shoulder to watch as Andrew Garfield stumbles through a conversation with Emma Stone, looking nothing like a high schooler.

“I still don’t get why you like this version more than the new Spiderman,” he grumbles, and Cale shrugs.

“I don’t like it more. They’re both good. I just…relate to this Spiderman more.”

That makes no sense. “You relate to the awkward kid who hides behind his camera and doesn’t know how to talk to his crush?”

Cale lifts his shoulders bashfully. “Replace the camera with hockey gear, and I don’t feel like it’s too far from the truth.”

“What?” Nate laughs. “No way. You were never that awkward.”

“I couldn’t even talk to you for two minutes without embarrassing myself.”

“Pfft,” Nate scoffs, hand spreading flat over Cale’s stomach, “I spilled beer all over myself the first time I saw you after the summer because I forgot where my mouth was. I really don’t think you can claim most awkward in this relationship.”

A small, amused smile tugs at Cale’s lips. “Fair enough,” he concedes, “we can be tied for most awkward.”

Humming, Nate turns to press a sucking kiss to the side of his neck. “It doesn’t even matter though because we’re definitely not awkward now,” he says, punctuating the words with a gentle roll of his hips.

Cale’s breath catches, and his hand spasms on Nate’s leg, digging into the muscle. “Definitely not awkward now,” he agrees, voice airy, “but we’re still going to watch this.”

Nate mumbles a few choice complaints but doesn’t protest, settling back into the couch to watch Peter Parker get bitten by a radioactive spider for the millionth time.

Cale is warm all along his front, solid and reassuring, and his fingers are brushing lightly over the exposed skin of Nate’s thigh, thoughtlessly tracing patterns that send shivers down Nate’s spine. It’s comfortable, easy, perfect, and Nate is struck by the thought that he wants to do this forever. Not watch Spiderman, obviously, but spend every offseason with Cale, pass countless afternoons curled up on the couch together, joke about the hiccups they had in the beginning because they can. He wants to do this next year and every year. He wants it all; he wants everything.

Overwhelmed, Nate presses his face to Cale’s shoulder and takes a couple deep breaths, trying to reign in the emotions pouring through him. With a curious noise, Cale shifts in his arms and raises a hand to settle it around the back of his neck, fingers massaging over the tense muscles.

“We should get married,” Nate murmurs, barely more than a whisper, and his heart thuds at the honesty of the words, the naked desire behind them.

Cale hums in lazy agreement and reclines further into Nate’s chest. Then he goes stiff. “What?” he asks carefully and eases himself out of the circle of Nate’s arms to turn and look at him. “What did you say?”

A thread of panic settles in Nate’s stomach as he takes in Cale’s raised eyebrows and wide eyes. Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. This isn’t how proposals are supposed to happen, sacked out on the couch on a random day during the offseason. Fuck.

“Uh,” he stammers, and his eyes dart around the room anxiously. “I just—I thought—you know, we’ve been together for years,” he explains, heart pounding, “and I mean, that’s kind of the next step, and I thought we were always on the same page about wanting that but just hadn’t really decided when it would happen.” His palms feel clammy. “But I’ve been thinking about it for like three weeks, and I realized that there was no reason to not because we already live together and do holidays with our families and everyone treats us like we’re married, so I just thought, you know…maybe it’d be nice to be married,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “If you’re not ready though, that’s fine. I really don’t want to put any pressure on you about this, but I just, with the way you acted at G’s wedding, I thought maybe now was the right time, but I’m starting see I probably read that wrong, so if—”

“Nate,” Cale interrupts, lifting a hand to cover his mouth, eyes terribly soft and fond. “Yes. Obviously, yes. Of course I want to marry you.” The words soothe something deep in Nate’s soul. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was a rookie,” he continues, moving his hand to cradle Nate’s jaw, “but everybody already gave us enough shit about being too serious or moving too fast. Getting married would’ve been too much for them to handle.”

His thumb strokes over Nate’s cheek. “Of course I want to marry you,” he says softly. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to spend the rest of forever with you. Did you really think, even for a second, that I didn’t?”

A flush creeps up Nate’s cheeks. Well, it sounds ridiculous now with Cale looking at him earnestly and holding him like he’s something precious. But he feels justified in his panic. He proposed on the fucking couch with Spiderman playing in the background. Cale’s never seemed bothered by his lack of romanticism, has even told Nate multiple times that candlelit dinners and fancy presents aren’t really his thing, (“I don’t need stuff, Nate. I can buy all that myself. Just…just be there. That’s all I need; that’s all I want. Knowing you’re there is enough, more than enough.”) but Nate still feels like he could have done a better job of this.

“Nate,” Cale murmurs, shaking his head fondly. “I’ve wanted to marry you for years. _Years_. Did you honestly think I’d say no?”

Flush deepening, Nate ducks his head and fiddles with the hem of Cale’s shorts, rubbing the material between his fingers in soothing motions. “No,” he admits. He knows this has been a sure thing since that first night, knows Cale was there to stay as soon as he showed up on his doorstep, confused and exhausted. “But I proposed on the couch,” he grumbles, “in the middle of a movie. I don’t even have rings yet. I wasn’t planning on doing this; it just…slipped out.”

Cale’s brow furrows. “But you said you’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah, I have. I just…didn’t really get beyond that.”

“But you do want to get married,” Cale says, words caught between a question and a statement, and he looks hesitant, unsure, and Nate doesn’t understand why. He asked him. He asked Cale to marry him. Sure, it was an accident, but he still meant it, and oh. _Oh._

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, reaching up to squeeze Cale’s fingers. “I definitely want to get married. I didn’t mean that I asked you on accident. I just…when I’ve thought about this before, we were usually at some nice restaurant in suits, feeding each other fancy food. Not sitting on the couch in t-shirts and shorts.”

Cale’s nose crinkles adorably. “I would never let you propose to me in front of a bunch of strangers,” he says. “I don’t even think I’d want our families watching. It’s kind private, like something just for us.” A soft smile breaks over his face, and he shuffles forward to straddle Nate, settling comfortably in his lap before looping his arms around Nate’s neck. “So this is perfect,” he tells him. “It’s just us in our house. No one watching, no one taking pictures to post on Instagram. Just you and me.”

Relief washes through Nate, and he wraps his hands around Cale’s hips to drag him closer, pressing forward until they’re chest to chest. “So I didn’t fuck it up too badly?” he asks, lips just a breath away from Cale’s.

“Nope,” Cale replies, and he cards a hand through Nate’s hair, scratching at his scalp until Nate lets out a pleased rumble.

“Good,” he murmurs, “because every time I thought about this the best part was definitely the celebratory sex afterwards, so even if nothing else is the same, I feel like we can still do that and call this a win.”

Cale circles his hips, grinding against Nate’s rapidly-hardening dick. “I think we can manage that,” he says and captures Nate’s mouth in a slow, exploratory kiss that leaves them both breathless and trembling.

“Bedroom,” Nate mutters, sliding his hands around to fit them under Cale’s thighs and scooting to the edge of the couch. “Wrap your legs around me.”

Cale gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re not about to carry me to our room,” he says flatly. “I have legs; I can use them.”

Shaking his head, Nate runs a hand down Cale’s thigh. “Yeah. You can use them to hold on because I am definitely about to carry you to our room.” He pulls at the back of Cale’s knee, tugging until Cale reluctantly rocks to the side and wraps his leg around Nate’s waist.

“This is ridiculous,” Cale informs him, but he nevertheless gets the other leg around Nate too, hooking his ankles together and locking his arms behind Nate’s neck.

“You don’t think I can do it?” Nate asks haughtily, adjusting his position as he prepares to stand up.

“Oh, I know you can,” Cale replies with a huff. “It’s just going to take twice as long to get there.”

“You calling me slow?”

Cale eyes him incredulously. “You’re going to be carrying an extra two-hundred pounds. I’d be a little bit worried about you keeping some secret superpowers from me if you weren’t.”

Scoffing, Nate rises to his feet carefully. Once standing, he pauses for a moment, adjusting to the added weight and the uneven distribution before taking his first step toward the bedroom. “You have no faith in me,” he mutters, and Cale shivers when Nate’s lips brush his neck. “Just for that, I’m going to bend you over the bed and take you from behind, make you beg for it until you can’t speak.”

Cale leans back enough to give him a dubious look. “You know as well as I do that you’re about to go lay me down, open me up real slow, and then take me face to face so we can kiss the whole time.”

The words stoke the fire in Nate’s belly, and he tightens his arms around Cale’s waist and under his ass. “And I’ll make it slow,” he rumbles, “so fucking slow. Keep your legs around me the whole time so you can’t move and just grind in until you forget about everything except for me and us and the fact that we’re going to get married and you’ll be my husband and I’ll get to keep you forever.”

“Forever,” Cale moans, and Nate stumbles, arms spasming as the word rips through him.

“Shit,” he breathes, caught off-guard and overwhelmed. “Shit.”

Cale tilts his head in question. “Nate?” he asks, hesitant, one hand sliding around to cup Nate’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

Speechless, Nate stares at him, takes in the high flush of his cheeks and the vivid blue of his eyes, the concerned tilt of his mouth and the furrow between his brows that emerges anytime he’s worried. “Forever,” Nate repeats, awestruck. “You said forever.”

Cale’s eyes trace over his face, searching. “Yeah, I—because we—you know—,” he breaks off, staring at Nate like he would a puzzle he’s trying to build or a set play he needs to run.

They stay like that for several long seconds, Cale staring and Nate staring back because he can’t not. This is his fiancé. This is going to be his husband. Forever.

“Is that…” Cale begins quietly. “Was that…”

“Yeah,” Nate exhales. “Yeah, I mean, not exactly, but…but forever, yeah.”

“Oh.” Cale’s eyes flicker over his features once more, bouncing from his mouth to his eyes to his surely-reddened cheeks. “Forever,” he repeats, firmer than before. “You’ve got me forever.”

Swallowing thickly, Nate shuffles to the side, presses Cale against the wall, and buries his face in this neck, pinning him there as he takes a few shaky breaths. With a low, dismayed noise, Cale slips his hand around the back of Nate’s head to pull him closer, murmuring soft reassurances in his ear and pressing kisses to his hair.

Nate sucks in several deep, wet breaths, filling his lungs with Cale’s familiar scent, and he presses closer, closer until there’s no space between them, closer until he can pretend they’re one and the same, closer until everything is Cale, Cale, Cale.

“Nate.”

He tilts his head up at the quiet whisper and is struck all over again by the enormity of it all, by the impossibility.

“I promise we’ll get to the bedroom eventually,” he croaks, “but we’re just going to take a quick break here, okay?”

Cale nods amiably and opens at the first press of Nate’s lips to his, hand fisting in his hair to keep him in place as he deepens the kiss. It’s slow and filthy, all spit-slick lips and curled tongues, and Nate feels it under his skin, like molten lava slithering through his veins and lighting every nerve up like a Christmas tree.

When he rocks his hips forward, Cale moans and tightens his legs around Nate’s waist, leveraging himself up to grind against Nate’s stomach. He’s hot and hard, and Nate swears he can feel just a hint of sticky wetness through his shirt. It makes him shiver.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, silencing Cale’s complaints with a few soft kisses before lifting his hands to cradle Cale’s face. “Hey,” he murmurs, and Cale’s eyes flutter open to meet his.

“I love you,” Cale whispers, and Nate swipes his thumbs over the red warmth of his cheeks.

“I love you, too. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“The best?”

Nate grins and presses a delicate, nipping kiss to his lips. “The very best,” he promises.

Getting his arms back in place, he steps away from the wall and holds Cale close as he continues down the hall. Every few steps, he has to pause when his knees feel too weak from the wet kisses Cale sucks into his neck, teeth teasing over the sensitive skin.

When they finally make it to the bedroom, he carefully lays Cale out and climbs on top of him, settling between his thighs and sliding a hand beneath the hem of his shirt. Cale hooks a foot around his calf, wraps a hand behind his neck, and pulls him down for a deep, open-mouthed kiss.

Groaning, Nate falls into him, lets himself get lost in the wet slide of their tongues and the intoxicating feel of Cale beneath him, solid and warm and his, all his. He bites at Cale’s lower lip, then trails kisses over his jaw and down his neck, tracing the collar of his shirt with his tongue before hooking his hands in the fabric to drag it off. Cale lifts his arms and immediately tugs at the hem of Nate’s shirt when they get it off, pulling impatiently until Nate whips the shirt over his head and flings it toward the dresser.

Eyes roving over the tempting lines of Cale’s body, Nate doesn’t know where he wants to put his mouth first. Anywhere. Everywhere. He wants to trace every line and curve with his tongue, wants to map out the hills and valleys with his hands, wants to press his mark into every inch of Cale’s skin until no one could ever doubt that Cale was his.

“Nate, please,” Cale whines and hitches his hips in invitation, drawing Nate’s attention to his hard dick.

“Right, sorry,” Nate mutters, curling his fingers in the waistband of Cale’s shorts and dragging them down his thighs, greedily drinking in every inch of skin that is revealed. He drops the shorts over the side of the bed when he’s done and bends to mouth his way down Cale’s chest and stomach, tonguing over the lines until Cale lays a hand on his head and pushes him further down, down where he’s wet and red, down where he’s spreading his legs open for Nate to fit in between.

Sensing Cale’s growing impatience and his own, Nate wraps his lips around the head of Cale’s dick and sucks, tucking his teeth and hollowing his cheeks.

“Shit,” Cale hisses. “Oh my god, Nate.”

Groaning at the desperation already tinging Cale’s tone, Nate takes a deep breath and sinks lower.

“Oh god,” Cale moans.

Nate bobs for a minute or two, eyes watering when Cale’s dick hits the back of his throat. Then, he pulls back and swirls his tongue around the head, lapping at the foreskin and sucking at the slit where pearly white precome drips out. Cale has a hand in his hair and the other braced against his own thigh, fingers pressing in until the skin turns white.

“Nate, Nate,” Cale whines, and Nate sucks a kiss to the head before tonguing down one side and then the other, teasing at the veins and the bundle of nerves he knows sits just beneath the head. When he sinks back down, relaxing his jaw and throat, Cale jumps. “Nate, fuck. Fuck!”

Grinning smugly, Nate withdraws and laps at the head when a few drops of precome dribble out, gently prying Cale’s hand off his thigh to intertwine their fingers.

“Can you lift your legs for me?” he asks, squeezing Cale’s hand and patting at his thigh.

Blearily, Cale looks down at him, eyes hazy and blissed out. “What?”

“Your legs, can you lift them? Please.”

Cale frowns in confusion, but he still draws his heels up and raises his legs. “Why? What are you—”

Nate doesn’t give him the chance the finish the question, wiggling under his legs and pressing his face between his cheeks. With his free hand, he thumbs Cale open further and licks a stripe over the tight furl of muscle.

Cale squeaks, and his legs drop onto Nate’s shoulders heavily, one foot curving over his back to pin him in place. Nate makes an appreciative noise and circles Cale’s hole with the tip of his tongue, teasing at the skin before pulling away. He does it again and again, relishing the frustrated sound Cale makes each time he gets close but not quite there.

“Nate, I fucking swear,” Cale finally mutters, thighs tensing around Nate’s head. “If you don’t do something in the next two seconds, I’m going to take care of this myself and make you watch.”

Triumphant, Nate wraps an arm around Cale’s legs, gets a hand around his dick, and slides his tongue in.

Cale shudders and groans brokenly.

Wasting no time, Nate switches between deep presses and teasing licks over the rim, shivering each time he can feel Cale tighten around him. He laps at the tender skin and sucks at Cale’s hole until he shouts.

“Shit. Nate, shit.”

Nate sucks harder and lets the barest hint of teeth graze over the skin before pressing his tongue back in and groaning at the taste. He can feel Cale’s thighs tremble around him, can hear his unsteady breaths, can see the desperate looks he directs his way. When their eyes lock, he grins as best he can and slides his tongue in deeper, sucking at the skin and watching Cale’s eyes go dark.

“Nate,” Cale pleads, one hand hovering over Nate’s head.

Nate hums, not letting up.

“Nate, I can’t—” He moans, long and low, and Nate strokes his hand up his dick, fingers tight around the hot length.

He’s so close. He’s so fucking close. Nate knows it; he can feel it, and he just wants to watch Cale let go, wants to see him fall apart beneath his hands and mouth.

“Wait,” Cale gasps when Nate’s hand picks up speed. “Wait!”

Nate stops, but he doesn’t let go, gazing curiously up at Cale.

His cheeks are a deep crimson that makes the blue of his eyes stand out starkly, and he’s watching Nate with a frantic, trembling air.

“I don’t want to come like this,” he says, breathless. “I want you up here. You promised me slow, promised me we’d be able to kiss. I want that, not this. I want that.”

Fuck, Nate loves him. So much.

He pulls away, admiring the view of Cale’s abused hole, and sits up. “Hand me the lube,” he orders and extends an expectant hand.

Grinning, Cale stuffs a hand under the pillows and pulls out the lube they’d left there two nights ago, neither awake enough to care about putting it back in the right spot. He holds it out to Nate, who takes it and slicks his fingers, rubbing it around until it’s warm.

He lines a finger up and gently eases it in, watching as it sinks passed the ring of muscle and disappears up to the knuckle. He crooks it lightly, and Cale’s stomach jumps. Nate glances up at him and smirks, curling his finger again to see the way Cale’s eyelashes flutter.

He works it in and out purposefully, twisting his wrist and adding another finger when Cale asks him to. Entranced, he watches Cale’s body yield around the intrusion and wonders how hard it would be to do this with his left hand so he could watch the shiny gold of a wedding band juxtaposed to Cale’s flushed skin.

The thought lights him up, and if he wasn’t hard before, he sure as hell is now, feeling desperate and needy and too far away from Cale.

Quickly, he presses a third finger in and scissors them apart, working Cale open as much as he can. He suddenly can’t stand the distance between, can’t stay kneeling between his legs. He wants to be in him and over him, wants to press him into the mattress and set a slow, torturous pace that’ll let them kiss and touch and just be.

“Nate,” Cale calls, “that’s good. I’m good.”

Blinking, Nate lifts his head slowly and stares at Cale, spread out on their bed like a vision, like a dream, a goddamn dream come true. He surges up to smash their mouths together and narrowly avoids a harsh collision of teeth in his desperation. Cale makes a surprised noise, but he doesn’t pull away, matching Nate’s frantic pace with ease and running a hand down Nate’s side to loop around his waist and pull him closer.

Fuck, why is he still wearing shorts? Why didn’t he take them off earlier?

Cale pulls back. “Come on, Nate,” he groans, pushing at the slippery material with clumsy hands. “I need it. I want it. Come on.”

With no grace or poise, Nate shimmies out of the shorts and kicks them to the foot of the bed. At the first press of skin on skin, Cale sighs happily and melts into the covers, dragging Nate down with him. They rock together slowly, pressing kisses to mouths and cheeks as their hands rove over bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Cale,” Nate gasps when the head of his dick catches on Cale’s stretched rim. “Cale, please.”

“Yeah,” Cale murmurs in reply, “come on.” He hooks a leg around Nate’s waist and drags him closer. “Come on. Want this; want you.”

“Me too. Fuck, me too.” So much, he’s practically shaking with it, keyed up from the adrenaline and arousal. “I love you, Cale. I love you.”

Cale whines, hands scrabbling over Nate’s back. “I know. Me too. I know.”

With a trembling hand, Nate reaches between them and tries to line himself up, tries to sink into Cale’s warmth, but he can’t. He can’t. He’s quaking from desire and joy, from desperation and euphoria, and his hand just won’t listen to him, fumbling between them like it hasn’t since the first couple times they did this.

Fuck!

“Nate,” Cale says uncertainly, tilting his head down to look between them. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m fine. I just—” He turns his head up and catches Cale’s eye, feels the breath whoosh out of him at all the love and concern he sees in their blue depths. “I just really, really love you,” he confesses fervently, “and I can’t fucking wait to marry you and start a family with you—even if that kind of scares me—because I’ll be doing it all with you, and knowing that makes anything seem possible, and I just—” he falters, stumbling over the words because there are tears gathering in Cale’s eyes, fat tears that make his heart stutter in his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to wipe at Cale’s temples, “what is it? Did I say something wrong? Was that too much?”

A laugh bursts passed Cale’s lips, sharp and disbelieving, and he shakes his head emphatically. “No, no, you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

“You’re crying.”

“I am.” He raises a hand and curls it around Nate’s, squeezing gently. “I never thought I could have this,” he admits quietly. “I never thought I could have this with you. It seemed so unlikely, so impossible, but you’re here. You’re here, and we’re going to get married, and in a few years, we’ll go out and find Abby and then Noah. We’ll have our family, and I just—” he swallows “—I never thought I could have all of this.”

Well shit, Nate thinks, feeling misty-eyed himself. Shit.

“You can have this,” he says roughly. “You already do.”

Cale nods and tilts his head up, silently asking for a kiss that Nate is only too willing to give. He traces the seam of Cale’s lips until he opens them and slips his tongue out to meet Nate’s in a familiar, slick slide.

Hooking his ankles in the small of Nate’s back, Cale reaches between them, gets a good grip on Nate’s swollen dick, and eases him in with a sigh. Nate groans as tight, wet heat surrounds him, and he settles his weight on his forearms in order to rock forward slowly.

“Nate,” Cale pants. “Nate.”

“Yeah, I know. Cale, I know.”

When he’s fully seated in him, they don’t move for a few delicate moments, breaths unsteady as they stare at one another. They’ve done this a hundred times, a thousand, but it still feels brand new, still feels like the first time.

“Move,” Cale pleads, and he does, pulling out slowly before pressing back in.

After a few gentle thrusts, he eases a hand under Cale’s back and draws him close, turning his head enough for them to trade languid kisses, mouths moving in an unhurried rhythm. Moaning softly, Cale locks an arm around Nate’s back and fists a hand in his hair, deepening the kiss until Nate feels like he could consume him whole.

When they break apart, he tucks his head into Cale’s neck. “I love you,” he murmurs, breathing the words against Cale’s racing pulse, pressing them into his skin. “Cale, I love you.”

Cale’s legs tighten around him, and he tilts his hips for a better angle. “Me too,” he gasps. “I love you, too. So much, so fucking much.”

Nate can tell he’s close, knows he’s right on the edge, so he presses him down further, lets him rub against his stomach and leave sticky trails of precome in his wake.

“We’re going to get married,” he whispers, fumbling for Cale’s hand with the arm not pinned beneath him. “We’re going to get married, and you’re going to be mine, and everyone’ll know it.”

Cale keens. “Already am, Nate. I’m already yours.”

Nate’s hips stutter in their rhythm, and his next thrust is harder, faster.

“Fuck,” Cale hisses. “More. Nate, more.”

He doesn’t have much leverage, and he sure as hell isn’t about to let go of Cale in order to get some, so he does his best given their position, putting as much power into each thrust as he can and circling his hips in a slow grind.

“Yeah. Nate, yes.”

Everything is wet and warm and overwhelming, and Nate doesn’t want to come yet, but it’s all so good; it’s all too much. And anyways, it’s not like they’ll never do this again. They’re engaged; they’re going to get married. They have the rest of their lives and beyond to do this.

“Cale, Cale,” he groans, nosing at Cale’s cheek until he turns to press their lips together.

All at once, it’s too much and not enough.

It’s everything. Everything.

Nate pulls back enough to look at him, Cale’s features hazy from the proximity, and feels his heart constrict. “I love you.”

Cale tightens around him, “I love you, too,” and that’s it. He can’t hold out any longer. He comes with a groan, spilling inside Cale as he pants into the sweat-soaked skin of his neck.

Hips working gracelessly, Cale grinds up against him a few times and follows Nate over the edge with a broken cry.

After, they stay locked tight, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths, and Nate nuzzles at the skin beneath Cale’s jaw, pressing kisses to his neck at random.

“We should go get rings soon,” Cale mumbles drowsily, shifting every now and then to direct Nate’s mouth. “I don’t really know how engagement rings work for guys, but I kind of want you to wear one. You know, let everyone know you’re taken.”

Nate hums contentedly. “If I wear one, you have to wear one.”

“Obviously.”

Smiling sleepily, Nate presses a kiss to the corner of Cale’s mouth. “How do you feel about a wedding in July? It’d be warm enough to do it on the beach out here.”

A shiver runs through Cale, and he inhales shakily. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, we should do that. Let’s do that.”

“M’kay,” Nate mumbles. “Also, what do you think of Tyson giving a speech?”

Cale’s brow furrows, and he shifts enough to look Nate in the eye. “What?”

“He thinks he’s the reason we got together, and he wants to make sure everyone knows that.”

Squinting perplexedly, Cale frowns. “He does know he did pretty much nothing to get us together, right?”

Nate shrugs, “Not in his head,” and Cale gives him a strange look.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Sure, Tyson can give a speech at our wedding.”

“Cool, good, that’s good.” He grins at Cale, soppy and stupid from an incredible orgasm and the mind-blowing reality that they’re getting married, that they get to do this for the rest of their lives. “Hey,” he says, “I’m really glad I get to sleep with you for forever.”

Huffing out a laugh, Cale cards a hand through Nate’s hair. “Yeah, I’m really glad I get to sleep with you for forever, too.”


End file.
